Dirt Smothered Glass
by Satiah
Summary: Itachi had killed the feeling part of himself so very long ago. He had nothing of a life left, just a lonely desire to push his brother forward. His future was clouded by the past, dirtied by his own hands. Pre-timeskip.


Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto

A/N: This story takes place before the timeskip.

...

Looking through the clouded and mud-streaked glass of an old and dirtied window, Itachi was hard-pressed to find even his own reflection through the filth. The layers of unidentifiable debris that had somehow adhered to the glassy surface mildly intrigued him, but at the same time, utterly repulsed him. Gossamer cobwebs attached to the window's broken and rotting frame complemented the millions of hair-thin cracks running throughout the glass. Itachi had little doubt that the window was only held in place by the disgusting layer of crust that was effectively obscuring his view of the world beyond. Not that he didn't already know what was outside—it was just that he was unable to see it _now_ that bothered him. Nonetheless, it was a scene in which he was still intimately familiar with, even after all these years. Outside was a world that he would not—could not—forget, no matter how hard he tried.

He was still burdened by his past, shackled to his memories, chained to the consequences he had brought upon himself. He was a slave to it—Sasuke would never let it go, either—but Itachi had nothing of importance to think about instead, anyway. Nothing of worth to distract himself with. And this lack of distraction allowed his mind to dwell on the past. A past he could not have lived through. A future he could not have borne. A legacy he could not have carried. A world he could not have endured.

Although he often wondered; and he often thought about what could have been. A happy life…one in which the world would have been perfect. Idealized within his own mind, yes, but that was the beauty of the creative mind of a genjutsu user. The creation of the perfect world within one's own mind was an absolute necessity to him these days. Even when he felt that his own existence was petty and worthless, devoid of any meaning, he could just retreat into the perfect seclusion of his own mind. There, a flawless life existed. One where there were no pretenses—no expectations to live up to. Just himself, free to be who he wanted to be: the part of him that lived on in the deepest part of himself. The part that he almost succeeded in completely destroying that day.

He could no longer claim it was innocence—but there was some sort of spark of life left within the cold, dead shell he now wore. Perhaps it was the only human part left within such a murderer's body. For, surely, killers only destroyed lives because they, themselves, did not live? Surely, that was it—but now, he led such a meaningless existence. A half-life (Sasuke thought _he_ had it bad?). But wasn't it a true half-existence to know that you yourself murdered the part of you that you wished desperately to become? And instead of being what you wished, you had to witness yourself becoming what you now were?

Sasuke was obsessed. He didn't, no matter how much he would whine otherwise, live a "half-life". _Sasuke_ was still intact. Maybe a little messed-up in the head, granted, but the entity that was Sasuke was still fully intact. He was still a person. Someone who could know who they were, are, will be—someone who could still feel alive. Someone who could still _feel_. That was a pretty important qualification for living some kind of life, Itachi thought. If Sasuke really wanted to remain stubborn, Itachi assumed that he could proclaim living a three-quarters existence…

But that was most likely the jealousy talking, as Itachi felt no real contempt or hatred for his little brother. He could feel nothing, anyway. At least Sasuke _could_. Sasuke could feel hatred, love, sorrow, joy…he could experience these emotions. But Itachi had killed the feeling part of himself so very long ago…

All that Itachi could do now was to egg Sasuke on. Push him to his limits. Only then would he have even the slightest hope of killing Itachi. Then, and only then, would both of their pitiful existences be fulfilled. Both would perish in that inevitable confrontation, Itachi would make sure if it. No mistakes this time.

Only then could Sasuke's revenge be exacted, which would finally satisfy the younger Uchiha. Itachi would be content with the death of his own shattered soul, but it would have to take Sasuke with it. Itachi may have regretted that, if he could still care, but…well…that was beyond his grasp now.

The broken fragments of his soul would finally be released from this rotted, earthly frame. Finally washed, cleansed of the lifetime of grime obscuring its pure, innocent transparency.

…not so unlike the filthy window he was still blankly staring at.

Then, perhaps…perhaps he could finally _feel_ at peace.

But only in death.


End file.
